


I Beheld the Flaws of Man

by ElmiDol



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, star wars the last jedi
Genre: Canon Divergence, Canon Novel Spoilers, Hux Redemption, Orphans, Post TLJ, Sort Of, TLJ Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 06:13:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13828197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElmiDol/pseuds/ElmiDol
Summary: This was not the galaxy that Armitage Hux had envisioned. He had also never thought that he would defect from the First Order. Knowing that the First Order and Resistance would kill him if he is caught, he assumes a new identity. And soon finds himself atoning for the deeds he committed when he had been General Hux.Seeing what the war has cost the children who come into his life humbles him, and he makes it his life’s purpose to raise them. He builds an orphanage for them. A small apology, a meager attempt at making right the wrongs he knows he can never erase. He helps to raise them with the hopes that they won’t make the same mistakes he did. He hopes that these children will help to create a better version of the galaxy; Hux makes sure they do not know the same abuse he grew up with, because he does not want the bitterness of war to ruin them as it did him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sleepyowlet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepyowlet/gifts), [Artisanthemage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artisanthemage/gifts).



> So far there is no pairing in this fic. I am open to adding other characters and relationships. The main focus is the Hux redemption/running an orphanage though. 
> 
> This is a headcanon I've had for a bit. I told a few people, and recently was encouraged to write a snippet for tumblr/instagram. That led to this when I was asked. So, here it is!

** I Beheld the Flaws of Man **

_An Armitage Hux AU Fic_

 

by elmidol

 

Chapter One

 

_The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry._

 

Hence the fall of the Empire, though the Imperialists who had survived scrambled to find their place in the aftermath of war. There were those who became scavengers on Jakku, some who found refuge on various planets and tried to adapt to a time of peace, and many who had assisted in creating the First Order. The reign of the New Republic had ended; General Armitage Hux had assisted in this. He was known as the Destroyer of Worlds, a title he had previously held with glee and pride. Power. He had been raised to believe that power was one’s sole purpose in life. Brendol Hux had taught him this with a firm hand, quite literally so. Cruelty had been one of the first lessons learned by Armitage. Arrogance another; which, in hindsight, helped him to understand his own failures.

 

From birth, Armitage had been instructed in the ways of the Empire and First Order. There had been no question that he would be anything other than a military man. Even Rae Sloane—bless her—had ensured that this path would be the one he trekked. The damage had been done to him, some would say. And though it would be understandable if he had become overly cynical after his time under Brendol, Snoke, and even Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux was coming to terms with the fact that he _had_ had a choice. All along, there had been a choice even if he had been oblivious to it for so long.

 

The longing for an improved galaxy did not abandon him even as he curled upon himself in the escape pod. His dreams of becoming emperor were now lackluster though. He was, essentially, jaded. This was an alien emotion to him. A sensation he had always believed would be absent from his life. He had been raised during wartime. Nothing should have surprised him. Not even the death of Captain Phasma. That _had_ pained him, though. The first sign that, in the eyes of many, he was growing sentimental and _weak_.

 

Oh, how his father had always loved to use that term with him. _Weak_. _Useless_.

 

The loss on Crait had not helped with things either. Where Snoke had been purposefully cruel in utilizing the Force against him, Kylo Ren had been chaotic. Childish as well. A scared boy, one would say. That same frightened child was the one in charge of the First Order. His officers obeyed out of fear. The physical damage had been familiar to Armitage. He had been reminded of his youth. Moreover, of the _helplessness_ he had felt during that time.

 

It had been then that he had realized the flaws of the First Order, though that had not been enough to persuade him to leave. The Empire had ruled by fear, and it had fallen. Though Armitage Hux fancied himself deserving of the title of emperor, he had always imagined that it would be spoken with respect and reverence. Not fear. Not anger or hate, the same emotions that were behind his own utterances of _Supreme Leader_.

 

When he had stood upon that stage on Starkiller Base and watched the weapon open fire, when he had observed the destruction of Hosnian Prime, he had felt proud. Now it only evoked a sensation of sordidness. Fear. The galaxy feared and _hated_ him. They respected power in the same manner he did, but they did not love him.

 

Armitage Hux, starved for affection, had always pushed aside the human need for love.

 

Sentimental. Worthless. Foolish.

 

The one lesson that Hux could take from the sentimental and, in his opinion, foolish Supreme Leader Kylo Ren was to let the past die. His heroes were dead anyway. There was nothing at all to be lost.

 

In retrospect, as the former General of the First Order dug the fingertips of his gloved hands into his legs whilst he sat in the escape pod, he found that he could admit to the fact that Snoke had ruined Kylo Ren in the same manner that all his circumstances in life had ruined him. War had ruined them. Ben Solo had been born at the end of the war between the Empire and Rebel Alliance. An unplanned child with dark roots. The worst part was that Ben Solo had known love. Armitage had always hated him in part because of a sense of jealousy. Kylo Ren had had love _and_ power since the beginning, only to throw it all away. The man had even been offered multiple chances to return to such a life.

 

With Kylo Ren’s rise to Supreme Leader and the observations of how fear ruled the entirety of the First Order, Armitage had learned that all he would ever amount to was a pawn. A _rabid cur_ , as Snoke had said in the past, who was desperate to prove himself. Driven by spite. Never to claim that title of emperor. Always to be hated.

 

That had been his entire life. Being hated—what was it that had made him realized he wanted love? And not some common dalliance either. The love he felt an aching for was synonymous with acceptance.

 

It had been seeing Kylo Ren slumped in the new throne that had been made for him that had shaken Armitage to the core. He had seen himself there. Broken. Hated. Worthless. That was not the sort of person the galaxy needed, not what _anyone_ needed.

 

Ironic that he would have marked himself as a coward in the past. Fleeing as he did now. His body abused, bruised from Ren’s antics and the latest battle waged between the First Order and a new uprising of the Resistance. It had been the first time in his life where Armtiage had _truly_ felt as though he _was_ nothing. He had run from it, not realizing what he was doing. With only the clothes on his back—blades hidden in his sleeves and a blaster at his hip—he had left the First Order.

 

If he was captured by the Resistance or the First Order, he would be killed. Which he should have considered prior to running. The coordinates he had put in were to some random planet. He could not remain there, wherever it was. That would be in the First Order logs. He had to escape completely. Had to change his name, perhaps even his hair. He would stand out like a sore thumb.

 

The dim lights in the escape pod grew darker still. The planet was in sight, its oceans a great contrast to Jakku. He had been thinking of that desert planet as of late. The final fall of the Empire. The home of the girl who had assisted Kylo Ren in dethroning Snoke. An orphan girl, he noted. And was it not ironic that he was, on some level, jealous of _her_ as well? Having no parents would have been preferable to Brendol.

 

Armitage swiped at his eyes, a swear leaving his lips as the leather glove met moisture. Maker, he loathed feeling weak.

 

 

-

 

When the escape pod landed, Armitage realized that if he did not wish to stick out, he would have to shed the First Order attire. This was easier said than done. He had no spare articles of clothing. He pulled his arms out from the sleeves of his greatcoat, however instead of allowing it to drop he tugged it over his head. He had been indoors for so long that he sometimes forgot how bright the sun could be, especially on the more tropical or oceanic planets. Dark colored clothing, such as the _black_ of his uniform, hardly helped matters.

 

There would be numerous First Order allies and sympathizers on this planet. But therein lay the problem. Where in the past this would have benefited him, now it would make it easier for them to drag him back. For an execution, no doubt. Perhaps after a round or three of torture.

 

 _How did you manage?_ His thoughts had drifted to the ex-stormtrooper, FN-2187. He found himself impressed with the young man as well as jealous. He had had an ally. Several now, in fact. Armitage, meanwhile, had nothing and nobody.

 

“Stay where you are!” the voice that carried over to him was young, and he could not give it a gender. Armitage huffed out a sigh while he complied, opting to not move on the off chance that the individual was aiming a blaster his way. “I’m taking the ship!”

 

“Go ahead,” he drawled. “I don’t need it. I doubt it will do _you_ any good either. Unless you’re salvaging it for parts.”

 

“That’s none of your business!” the voice hissed, sounding closer now. Armitage rolled his eyes. He was no stranger to children. In fact, he had been told that he was quite good with them when he chose to have patience. Footsteps grew in volume. Then a hand was patting his hip, searching for the blaster. He allowed himself to be disarmed in this manner. The weapon was, after all, operable only by him. “What does the First Order want now?”

 

There was malice in the voice and…yes, Armitage could detect a personal hurt. The casualties of war. Someone close to this person had been killed as an outcome of the First Order’s actions. “I am here alone.” A strangled noise preceded a snort of disbelief. “May I walk away now? There’s only a small window before the First Order _does_ arrive here…for me.”

 

“Are you serious?” The butt of his blaster hit against his hip. Armitage turned around, his eyebrows drawn together as a frown tugged at his lips. The youth wore a mask, and the outfit, though made of light material for the weather, revealed nothing in terms of gender. “Will they pay for you?”

 

That frown quickly faded, in its place a sardonic grin. “I certainly doubt it. They’re more likely to shoot first and ask questions later. I’m defecting.” Honesty in most cases would get him killed. In the current circumstances, it was perhaps the one thing that would keep him alive. He _did_ need to get moving if he wanted to leave the planet before the First Order came. He knew too much, and that was not a risk others would take, allowing the knowledge to roam free. “Now, you can have the ship and my blaster… My time, on the other hand, is important to me.”

 

Another case where hindsight was better than foresight. His arrogance had been rewarded with the butt of his blaster being driven into his gut. Doubled-over, Armitage grit his teeth and glared at the youth before him. That mask was tilted to the side then shifted as its owner rolled their shoulders. A mini-Kylo Ren, his mind spat. Escaping ones past was not the simplest of tasks.

 

“I want off this planet too.” The nozzle of a blaster was level with his forehead. Not his blaster either; this one would work if the trigger was pulled. “They don’t let kids fly alone.” The disdain in the voice revived a sense of humor within Armitage. It also assisted in giving his rather quick-thinking mind a plan.

 

He could pose as this child’s parent or relative; certainly there would be some way to change his clothing. Lost paperwork? Easy—more believable—when there was more than one person. It felt as though, despite all his crimes against it, the galaxy wanted him to succeed in leaving the First Order. That, or he truly had lost his mind when allowing any sense of sentimentality to enter his life.

 

“Very well.” Assuming that being honest _would_ continue to get him further, he continued. “So there are no surprises, I do have blades up my sleeves.” The youth scrambled three steps backwards, finger trembling on the trigger of the blaster. “You… haven’t ever shot anyone before, have you?”

 

“Shut up!”

 

A scared child, ready to kill. No, not ready. Only thinking he or she would be ready. Armitage thought of all the children who had been entered into the stormtrooper program. Trained killers. The Resistance must have children working with them as well, he thought. For the umpteenth time, the reality of the war—one _he_ had furthered—hit him. This child had not killed yet. Meanwhile, Armitage Hux had been the death of countless individuals. Such a contrast.

 

He thought of Kylo Ren, slumped in the throne. They should have bonded, Ren and him. How clever Snoke had been, to ensure that hatred drove the both of them.

 

“Hurting you…won’t help me.” His voice cracked when he spoke. In the past, he had enjoyed hearing himself speak; he was man enough to admit to that. But now? Stars above, he despised how _weak_ he sounded.

 

That word again.

 

This was the moment where he could be different than his father. Armitage Hux stared at the masked youth, who had not relinquished hold of the blaster nor pointed it away from his chest. “You can have them. Just don’t shoot.” It was the softest his voice had ever been, and that gentleness had an immediate response. The child was nodding, weapon faltering in aim. Armitage withdrew the last of the weapons that were on his person and threw them to the ground.

 

Mask pointed in direction of the blades, the child took a step closer. They pressed the toe of their right shoe against the handle of the nearest one. A soft sigh, and then—Armitage startled when his blaster was handed back to him. He had not ruled with fear. For the first time in, well, he was not entirely certain how long, he had opted to trust and seek trust without ulterior motives or behind-the-scenes plotting. It was overwhelming, this strange weight that he felt building in his chest. It grew much, much heavier when the child then pushed aside the mask and stared up at his face with wide eyes.

 

The girl could not be any older than thirteen.

 

How many thirteen-year old stormtroopers had been made to kill? He hadn’t batted an eyelash at all. Not once. Armitage felt cold. The weight in his chest was one of ice as he realized the sort of man he had been molded into. Up until this point, he had _not_ been a man, he thought. He had been a monster. A destroyer of worlds.

 

Now that monster was in the presence of a child, who was looking at him with _hope_. Hope that he could help her to leave this planet and survive. For all he knew, he had been the one to place her in this position.

 

 _This isn’t the galaxy I wanted_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I'm sorry this chapter took so long! I've been having daily headaches/migraines so I fell behind on writing. Then, on top of that, this chapter fought me. But! Here it is. I hope you all enjoy <3

** I Beheld the Flaws of Man **

 

_An Armitage Hux AU Fic_

 

Chapter Two

 

“Now, what should I call you?” Hux asked evenly as he followed the girl to—she had not yet revealed _precisely_ where she was leading him, only that it would be beneficial in creating a false identity for him. She had replaced the mask over her face. A wise move, he considered, if others believed that she was male. Many would harass her less. There was always a misconception that females were inherently weaker. Phasma had generally eliminated those views where she could. He could remember some of the taunting she had received in the past; word for word, how others had assumed her armor was to protect her body because she was in some way frail.

 

Armitage had not known Phasma when she was younger. He did imagine, however, that she had been rougher around the edges than this girl. She would have killed multiple times over by this age. _He_ had ordered the deaths and pain of others many times before he had been this age. He had also experienced great amounts of fear. This was what he recognized in the girl. Fear mingled with bravery. Doing what one needed to in order to survive. She did not trust him completely at this point. To her, he was nothing more than a pawn.

 

Upon receiving no answer despite walking another ninety seconds, the former general narrowed his eyes and glowered at the back of her head. Even if they decided to eventually part ways, for the time being it was imperative that they appear to have a congenial relationship as opposed to this strained and temporary camaraderie. Explaining this to the girl would be tiring, however he began to do so through gritted teeth. There was no indication that she listened to his words. She continued to walk forward, ducking into an alleyway in order to enter one of the buildings through a back door. Armitage followed the nameless teenager inside, his eyes narrowing in an attempt to expedite the adaptation to the dimmed lighting.

 

She mounted a set of stairs, her feet missing every other step so that Hux was forced to increase the length of his stride to not fall behind. He wrinkled his nose at the stench of unbathed bodies. Upon rounding the next corner, he noticed that there were three different squatters in the building located in that hall alone. One of them, a man who was either Armitage’s age or older, lifted his chin enough to get a look at the two newcomers. His eyes stopped on the masked girl, and he cupped his hands together in order for something to be placed into his grasp. The thirteen-year old waved a hand before herself, stated that she did not have anything this time, and asked if someone by the name of Ajir was around. With a gruff grunt, the ragged man jabbed his thumb in the direction of a door that was near the other side of the hallway.

 

Armitage shuffled forward in order to follow the girl in that direction. She was sure in her steps, not caring if she stepped on specific cracks in the floor. Dismissive of the filth that stuck to the soles of her shoes. While he knew that he would have to grow accustomed to sordid surfaces, it would take him time. He scrunched his nose as he entered the room with the girl. The man inside, whom he assumed was this Ajir, wore an oversized robe atop several other layers of clothing. His gaunt face bespoke of an illness, old age, or a combination.

 

“Chali,” he said, his voice hoarse. The girl perked up. Armitage stored away the name for the time being. It would be foolish to antagonize her. “Why have you brought the First Order to us?”

 

“Defecting,” she replied whilst jabbing a thumb in the direction Hux was standing. “He’s going to take me off world.”

 

“A disguise,” Ajir said knowingly. The subsequent _hmmm_ and survey of Armitage’s body had the redhead narrowing his eyes. “What are you offering as payment?”

 

“He has blades.” Another nod from Ajir and the absence of further bargaining informed Armitage that the offer had been accepted. He grit his teeth, not particularly fond of having his weapons stripped away. Whatever turf war was allowing for this trade, however, he was thankful for. The blades would do him little good if the First Order caught up to him. Chali ducked out of the room. Before Armitage could do the same, Ajir asked for the blades to be presented.

 

The materials that comprised the weapons were high end. In many other circumstances, Armitage would have received enough credits to buy more than the shabby disguise he knew he would be getting. All the same, he swallowed his pride and handed the blades to Ajir. Then squeezed his eyes closed when the man cut off the First Order insignia from the arm of his greatcoat. This Armitage was told to remove, and he did. Layer by layer he was stripped down until only his undergarments remained. Ajir spared no insignia. When all of them had been cut from cloth, he tossed these into the unlit fireplace, where Hux imagined they would later burn.

 

There was a chest in the room that Hux had originally dismissed. It was from this that Ajir grabbed a pile of clothing, which he handed to the redhead. Armitage pulled on the layers of clothes, clenching his teeth to keep himself from gagging. They were not entirely clean. He had condemned himself to this life. Being on the run from the First Order—the very organization he had assisted the majority of his life. It was because of _him_ that the Resistance was as small as it now was. It was because of him that he had to suffer this indignity. He could only blame himself.

 

As though he had gone through these motions in the past—he hadn’t—Armitage followed Ajir into yet another room. Chali was already present. She had shed the mask, her attire different. The coloring of her new clothing matched his. They would easily pass as traveling companions now. The one thing that would cause him to stick out was that shock of red hair. Ajir and Chali were aware of this, which was why the girl tapped her fingers against a container of brown hair dye.

 

A sense of numbness overcame Armitage Hux. It was the reality that came with his hair being dyed that caused him to be at a loss for words. Chali and Ajir were chatty with one another, the pair clearly having interacted numerous times in the past. He heard none of what they were saying. Only noises. Sounds that had no meaning. There was no mirror for him to see the change in color to his hair, however he was able to smell the chemicals in the dye. It churned his stomach, although not enough for him to become physically ill. He was running away from the First Order dressed in ratty old clothes, enduring a quick dye job, and taking with him an orphan girl who seemed to know more about this street life than he did.

 

His eyes shifted to Chali. The girl was not smiling with her mouth, yet her eyes creased in the corners with amusement whenever Ajir said something she found to be particularly funny. She kept herself guarded, closing herself off to emotions and sentiments that could be used against her. This would prove useful in the journey they would be making. Blind trust got you killed in situations like these.

 

Armitage did not utter a single word of gratitude throughout the ordeal, nor when he left the building with Chali. She was polite, however did not say a _thank you_ either. This was a trade, some business transaction. There was no need for useless pleasantries. His coat was worth more than the sorry excuse for clothing on his back. Hux wrinkled his nose at the reminder that these weren’t freshly laundered. Life was changing drastically for him. Where he was headed now wasn’t anywhere he had ever expected to go. And Armitage did not even know _where_ he would be heading.

 

“Is Chali your real name?” he asked when the girl dropped her pace so that they were side by side. She seemed to realize that there was a necessity to act more familial. The locals would not be fooled, however the travelers would. Those were the beings they were required to trick in order to secure passage off this planet. Chali shook her head in response to his words. She did not offer up whatever her real name was, or had been, and Armitage did not expect her to. He knew that soon they would be sharing that in common. Eventually Armitage would have to choose a new name. “Should I pass you off as my daughter, little sister, or cousin?”

 

“Daughter is fine,” Chali murmured, her voice sounding rather strained though she had not hesitated in replying. Armitage nodded. He had been around children plenty, yet had had little time to think what it would be like to act as father to any. Not in the _true_ paternal sense—aiding in raising them, lovingly at that. Brendol had not been loving. That had never stopped Armitage from seeking his approval while also despising the man and wishing him dead. “I’ll call you _papa_.”

 

He appreciated the forewarning. There was a chance that he would accidentally ignore him when she referred to him as such. It was far different than anything he had been called thus far in his life. Chali and Hux had holstered their blasters. She could get to hers more easily than he could his. These oversized clothes would help to hide the weapon, but they had an equal potential of preventing him from reaching it in time if he needed to. Had Chali been one of his stormtroopers—no, not his, not anymore—then Armitage Hux would not have worried about this. They were trained to kill, to protect him and other officers. Well… Soon they would be prepared to shoot _him_.

 

 _When did everything go so wrong?_ Armitage wondered. As much as he wanted to blame Kylo Ren, he suspected that things had been ruined long before the man had even aligned with the First Order. Yes, Snoke had assisted in setting the stage for the First Orders’ accomplishments. He had in no way been perfect though.

 

“Jinge.”

 

“What?” Armitage looked down at the girl.

 

“You can say that your name is ‘Jinge’.”

 

Armitage had a good idea as to how Chali had selected the name. His hair, now concealed, had clearly had a strong impression on her. She was not being cruel. Her eyes flicked up to the top of his head then quickly away. She asked him if he would be able to lose the accent; again, not cruelly. When he did not answer her right away, Chali waved a hand and informed them that they would _work on that_.

 

He was not a large fan of taking orders, _especially_ from those of Chali’s age and experience. The man had to remind himself to stop thinking like a First Order General. Chali had plenty of experience even if she hadn’t killed anyone. She had gotten them this far. Disguised. Heading towards a ship that was preparing to leave. Supplies were being carried up its ramp.

 

“I hope you’re ready to get your hands dirty, Jinge.”

 

“It’s _papa_ to you,” he growled. Chali snorted, the giggle that erupted from her so…innocent. Armitage felt himself relax at its sound. “Alright. I take it we will be exchanging work for transportation.”

 

“If all goes well, _papa_ ,” she said, placing an emphasis on the word. She was very much like a mini Ren. Armitage shook his head, unsure why that made him yearn for the man’s company. It was not as though he had particularly liked Ren. In fact, he would have killed him if given the chance. Except now he wondered if Ren would have run away with him. What would Kylo’s plan have been?

 

_What sort of disguise would he have been stuffed into?_

 

They likely would not have gotten that far. Ren would have either gotten them killed, or else cut through Chali. It was almost uncharacteristic for that sort of thought to sicken Armitage, yet it did. He glanced at the girl, who rubbed her hands together, waiting for _him_ to approach the pilot. She nearly hissed out the word _papa_ to get him moving.

 

“Stay close to me,” he said, feeling rather awkward as something in the back of his head told him he needed to keep this girl safe.


	3. Chapter 3

I Beheld the Flaws of Man

_An Armitage Hux AU Fic_

by elmidol

 

Chapter Three

 

Armitage idly wondered if this—pilots and captains accepting work as payment for passage off a planet—had always been normal in this part of the galaxy. With Chali at his side, no one had batted an eyelash. The impoverished appearance provided by his attire likely contributed to the rouse. Yet, if he were to be completely honest with himself, had _he_ been the one approached by such a person, he would have turned them away. Perhaps laughed at them as he attempted to grasp the gall they had to beg him. In that moment, Armitage was again reminded of the man he had become, the man he was trying to change.

 

He remained quiet as the two of them were led to the living quarters that they would be made to share with three others. It was messy in comparison with the ever-tidy barracks of the First Order. There were no droids to clean up after them. Armitage eyed the small pile of laundry that was placed in a corner. While this did offer a semblance of order, it was unsanitary, wasn’t it? Another thing he would have to get used to.

 

Maker, he had not before realized that he was a snob. Not to _this_ extent. These trivialities should have been the last things on his mind. At any moment the First Order could arrive, the potential of any delay bringing forth his death a constant worry. Perhaps the inner complaints on lesser issues helped ground him. It was much easier a task to remain calm when you were not constantly thinking of the consequences of being caught; not worrying how painful the torture would be before your death. In a strange way, it gave Armitage an appreciation of the existence of the dirty laundry.

 

Chali had noticeably assumed a more quiet demeanor, one that did not strike Armitage as being forced. She was not taking kindly to having to bunk with strangers. It caused him to wonder, once more, about her past. How long had she been on her own?

 

He did not ask, and the girl did not offer the information of her own accord. Instead, when she noticed that he was watching her, she scooted over to the vacant bunk. “I’m going to sleep on top.” He was torn about this. The bottom bunk meant being able to reach the door faster. That also meant no advantage when it came to shooting first, if that became a necessity. “Okay, papa?”

 

Armitage gave a single, curt nod without verbally replying. Chali’s lips pulled into a frown. It was another indication that she was nervous being with the other three in this room. He remembered that as a child. Waiting for the adults to say more, to reassure him that this was working out nicely without him having to prompt them. For them to _care_ enough to think it prudent to remain outwardly positive. He was at a loss for what he should do. General Hux would have assessed the situation in terms of military power; if Chali was weak, she would be unfit for the First Order, and thus ignored by him and dealt with by another. He was not a general anymore, though. He was Armitage Hux… No. He was Jinge according to everyone on this ship.

 

What was Jinge supposed to say to his daughter?

 

He thought of the times Snoke had humiliated him in front of his men. The way Kylo Ren had tossed him off to the side. How Brendol Hux had never cared about Armitage so much as how Armitage’s actions reflected on his father.

 

“Are…there enough blankets?” he tried, fumbling for words for the purpose of saying anything at all, for the sake of being a better man than his father had been. Chali drew her limbs closer to her body. Her brow had furrowed when he had asked the question, and he wondered if it would have been preferable for him to have remained silent. Or the girl may not have expected him to speak to her, he thought when her facial features relaxed. She tilted back her head to better peer up at the top bunk. Her shoulders rose and fell, a noncommittal sound emerging from her. He understood her hesitation to give a more solid response. To answer _yes_ then be cold once they were in the depths of space would leave her embarrassed. To say _no_ would require seeking another blanket, if such a one existed.

 

The man that Armitage had spoken with had implied that he did not expect the faux-brunette to work until the next shift, which would not start until hours after they left the planet. He decided to rest in the meanwhile. Chali acted similarly; she climbed up into her bunk, settled under the sheets, and was quiet. Armitage ducked his head to move onto the bottom bunk. The pillow was adequate. The blankets on the cheap side. Nothing _he_ would have ever chosen to purchase in his old life. His nose wrinkled at the thought. Sniffing, he swiped one hand down the length of his face, closing his eyes as the limb moved over them. He needed to stop making those sorts of comparisons. Nothing would _ever_ be the same.

 

If he were to in any way make a name for himself, the publicity could very well lead either the Resistance or the First Order to him. He had to settle for mediocrity. There would never be anyone to adore him, to look at his face with a sense of pride or awe. No one to love him.

 

He remembered how the tears had felt when he had wept in the escape pod, and it was not something he wished to experience again. Not where anyone could see him at any rate. Armitage rolled onto his side and curled his legs towards the rest of his body, although never quite achieving the fetal position. His eyes scanned the durasteel wall of the ship. Above him, Chali shifted. The mattress gave a squeak then fell silent. He suddenly wanted to ask her how she had been put into this position. He wanted to hear what sins he had committed against her and those she had cared for. This was not the time nor the place to do so.

 

In his dream, there was a house with endless corridors. Every room was empty, and his small hand pushed open those barriers as he hoped that the next one would be different. The child version of him within the dream worked faster. Opening and slamming each and every door with increased speed. The sound was louder. A door he had not touched, one he could not see, slid open with a _whirr_.

 

It was entirely out of place in his dream, which was why he stirred. Armitage dropped his gaze in the direction of the door after he blinked open his eyes. One of the passengers sharing the room was a Nautolan male. He was, from what Armitage could tell, young. Older than Chali yet younger than himself. The Nautolan walked over to the bed that was across from his, and started to rummage through the small pack that was placed near the foot of the mattress. He kept his back to them, although Armitage was unable to tell if this was intentional or a coincidence.

 

Unintentional, he noted as the Nautolan turned to address him. He had in his hand a bottle of stomach-soothing herbs. “Need?” As though reluctant to speak in fully-formed sentences. Still, he was being civil. Kind…and Armitage knew that this was another bias, instilled in him by his father, that he would need to relinquish. He could no longer go about life with an attitude that bespoke his prejudice against non-human beings.

 

“Chali?” he said, aware that he, personally, had no need for the herbs. He had practically lived on one starship or another for the greater majority of his life. As for the thirteen-year old girl posing as his daughter, he was not sure if she had left this planet ever in her life. He received no response from her, which prompted him to listen. There it was, that steady rhythm of her breathing in her sleep. “I will…have to get back to you on that.”

 

He truly was in over his head, traveling in disguise, interacting with beings he had always thought beneath him, trying to tend to the needs of a child. The Naulotan smiled and nodded, taking some of the herbs himself and placing the remainder back into his bag. “Eating soon,” he called over his shoulder while exiting the room.

 

Armitage blinked, once more listening, although this time to the sounds of the ship. It appeared that he had slept long enough for he ship to have left the planet. He must have been far more tired than he had previously believed. His stomach growled then, alerting him that he was also rather hungry. Armitage set a hand over his abdomen while scowling. He had not even bothered to ask what sort of rations they had brought, nor if he would be working extra for the meals he and Chali would consume. On that note, would he even be satisfactory in the jobs that were given to him? He was a _general_!

 

No… No he wasn’t, he reminded himself.

 

He laid back down, his head on the pillow, and stared up at the underside of the top bunk.

 

He was no longer a First Order General, however that had not stopped him from feeling a wave of revulsion over having to speak with a nonhuman. Nor did it erase the urge to locate the ship’s bridge and take command. He wanted to lead, not follow. Armitage wanted to inspect every nook and cranny of this ship to demand repairs, modifications—order! Get the dirty laundry off of the floor, wash it, fold it… Did this ship not have droids?

 

Movement above. The breathing had not changed, however Chali spoke. “I wasn’t asleep.” He squared his jaw, more than a little irritated that she had just admitted to having ignored him. “You should know better than to accept things from strangers. You might get something laced with spice.”

 

He, well, he hadn’t thought of that. Which was preposterous! Further proof that he was growing soft, reckless, _weak_.

 

“Maybe I could…teach you?” Silence spread between them as he failed to respond. His mind was racing once more. Incredulity that the girl believed he _needed_ her to teach him. Empathy over the fact that, clearly, she did not want to be alone. Another foreign emotion, a sense of protectiveness. She had not thought things completely through. Chali had wanted to leave the planet, yet had failed to realize things did not magically change from there. One did not arrive from Point A to Point Z without going through all of the other stages first.

 

Armitage turned his head to eye the bag containing the herbs. “Maybe,” he offered.

 

“Sometimes I forget to miss them,” she said. He felt something lodge in his throat. The bitter taste of guilt on his tongue. “Don’t remember they’re gone… What about you? Do you miss them?”

 

Them. All of the officers in the First Order. His comrades. The men and women he had led. Those that regarded him with such disdain. Those that respected and admired him.

 

“Sometimes,” Armitage admitted. He did miss all of it—even Kylo Ren, slag it. The familiarity of the routine of war instead of fumbling around trying to find his footing as he traveled to Maker knew where. He missed trivial things as well. MSE droids. Tarine tea. The insignia he had worn, the very one that had been cut out of his old clothing. He did not miss Snoke, and he was relieved about that.

 

Chali’s foot peeked over the edge of the bed. Its twin joined it. She lowered herself onto the ground rather than climbing down the built-in ladder. Armitage pinched his lips to keep himself from reprimanding her. He did miss giving orders. The young female stared at him, averting her eyes then returning them several times before he was able to take the hint. It took him but a moment to decide to oblige. Armitage scooted towards the wall, and the girl pretending to be his daughter climbed onto the mattress with him. She lay there with her back to him, both of her hands cupped underneath her cheek.

 

He did not comment on the fact that her eyes had been red-rimmed, a sure sign that she was holding in tears. Armitage did not touch her shoulder nor offer her words of comfort. He had given speeches to the First Order many times. Right then, though, he did not know what to say. Felt that, somehow, it was better to not say anything at all.

 

And so he drew the blanket that he had wrapped around himself across them both instead. Together they there in the silence as the ship flew through space going to a destination they had never bothered to ask.


	4. Chapter 4

**I Beheld the Flaws of Man**

_An Armitage Hux AU Fic_

by elmidol

 

Chapter Four

 

It was Chali’s stomach to release the first growl, however his soon followed suit. Those pangs of hunger had Armitage sitting up on the bed. He placed a hand over his gut and scowled. With one final look in the young girl’s direction, he rose and headed for the door. Her eyes trailed along after him. He could feel the stare. She wanted to follow him, but also was unsure how he would react, whether or not she wanted to interact with the others aboard the vessel. Armitage paused to look over his shoulder. He did not trust her to be alone with the others, now that he thought about it. The man waved her over, and she complied without question.

 

He wondered for but a moment if he felt motivated to have her near in the absence of any other ally. In the same way that he had shielded his underlings from Supreme Leader Snoke’s ire or Kylo Ren’s recklessness, he felt a need to take this girl under his wing. To protect her from the world he had helped to create. Although this part of the world had always existed. Outlaws. Lawlessness. No single ruler could find a means of controlling the entire galaxy. There remained cracks in the system. Chali would not be allowed to fall through any of them, he swore to himself. If he could do _one_ right thing, it would be this.

 

“Do you think we should kill the captain and steal the ship?”

 

That was not what he had expected her to whisper to him. Not in any way. Armitage faltered in his steps, the man twisting around to peer at the girl as though she had grown a second head. Maybe even a rainbow colored one. Several appendages. Anything that would eliminate the innocent façade she seemed quite adept at putting on. She was toeing the line of one of those aforementioned cracks. Becoming too desperate, too selfish, too cruel. The cutthroat nature of the inquiry reminded him of both Phasma and Brendol.

 

Chali ducked her head, looking rightly subdued. “Too extreme?”

 

“Here I thought you would be teaching me,” he teased, feeling himself relaxing. That familiarity in her proposal had made him feel strangely at ease. Chali’s bottom lip protruded forward before she promptly sucked it into her mouth. She did not want him to see her pouting. “I did not inquire about food, whether or not it is included with our passage for the work we will do.” Chali did not appear concerned in regards to this issue. This was quickly explained when she commented that it was generally assumed food would be included, even if it meant ration bars rather than the more luxurious meals enjoyed by the remainder of the crew.

 

Though he believed her, Armitage nevertheless persisted in walking towards where he had been informed the crew would meet for meals. The captain of the vessel was either a family man or else wanted to observe everyone as they ate. There was much one could tell about a person—of any species—when they allowed their defenses to drop. Or if they suddenly raised their guard. Should an individual act suspicious during mealtime, it was often evidence that they had something to hide. Information that could be used as blackmail. Information that could get the entire crew killed. A plot that would result in death as well. Anything.

 

If anyone let down their guard _too_ much, Armitage was ready to consider them an idiot. The galaxy was always looking to knock people down a peg. That was not paranoia speaking either.

 

The ship lacked photographs or graffiti that the former redhead had observed on family vessels in the past. This supported the theory that their captain wanted to keep an eye on his passengers. A wise man, he thought. One he could easily respect if given more reason to commend his abilities. On that same note, the plain walls were depressing in comparison with the dirty quarters he had left.

 

Armitage reached backwards for Chali without realizing what he was doing until the tips of his fingers met the front of her shirt on her stomach. She released an inquiring _papa_ , the young girl never falling out of character. Impressive indeed. This was not the first time she had had to act in order to survive. He held back from yanking back his limb out of embarrassment; in the past, he never would have worried himself with her survival like this. She would have been nothing more than a means to an end. That had been his idea of strong.

 

Now he recognized it as loneliness.

 

“Does it make you nervous?” The real question had been _does the **crew** make you nervous?_ She had been on edge since his contact with the Nautolan, and he sincerely doubted it had anything at all to do with the male’s species. To propose something as extreme as murdering the captain and crew? “Leaving the planet?” Chali’s fingers wrapped around his hand. Was she really that small? Armitage’s eyes traced the shape of the limb after he dipped his chin to look at where they were connected. Had _he_ been this small at that age?

 

Chali whispered, and, though he strained to listen, it took him several seconds to decipher what the small sounds emerging from her had meant. She was nervous, but could not put her finger on any one reason.

 

Maker, how many times was his mind going to compare her to Ren? Their reckless temperaments in regards to dealing with others. At least with this girl, he could understand it stemmed from age and, in a way, lack of experience—in terms of life and death, she had no doubt witnessed much, however it was not the same as what the battlefield offered. They wanted to tear through their surroundings when fear crept into their bodies. Lash out at the galaxy as a whole in anger.

 

“You needn’t be afraid.” She opened her mouth immediately following his words, and he preempted her reply by adding: “Cautious, but not afraid.” The beginnings of a pout returned, however, like before, she regained control over her features before it formed.

 

Their conversation ended there due to their arrival amongst more of the crew. The Nautolan greeted them with a nod. The captain noticed them as well. He had his arms crossed over his chest and was leaning against the doorframe opposite them. His eyes did not stray from Armitage’s face. The former general had the nagging suspicion that the man was trying to place where he had seen his countenance before. Where in the galaxy would he be able to hide, to truly hide, where his former allies or enemies would fail to find him? And would they ever stop looking?

 

“Papa.”

 

He would be settling for mediocrity in the end. A failure in the eyes of his late father.

 

“Papa.” This time Chali’s voice cut through his thoughts. In part this was due to the tone she adopted. Exasperation, a hint of desperation. She squeezed his hand tightly enough to where a dull ache began.

 

Now he definitely had never done _that_ in his childhood. Whose hand would he have had to squeeze, much less hold?

 

“Sorry,” he said, forcing a smile and looking down at his ‘daughter’. “It seems I’m still tired from our travels.”

 

Chali wrinkled her nose. “You always sound so _posh_ after reading one of your holonovels.” Her upper lip curled in faux distaste. Armitage cleared his throat, getting the message. No more speeches. The less he talked, the better for their cover. “I’m hungry.”

 

The subject change was effective in comforting the captain; he, at least temporarily, set aside whatever suspicions he had been running away with, and gestured towards the table with his head. An invitation to the meal that was being served by another of the crewmembers. Not a droid. And no ration bars. Chali happily moved onto one of the open chairs. The plate in front of her was quickly loaded with a roll, some sort of meat that was unfamiliar to Armitage—likely something low end—and a vegetable that had the girl making a face. The female, a humanoid, assured the teen that it was good for her. It was something that would be said to a toddler or younger child, however he found that it fit given the girl’s attitude.

 

Armitage spared another glance in the direction of the captain, discovered he was being observed, and did the first thing that came to mind. Talked.

 

“Maybe they’re always picky at this age.”

 

This time, though, the captain visibly relaxed and was engaged in the discussion. “From what I’ve seen? They are. And most the time it don’t change with age. We’ll talk jobs after the meal. Best ya eat before yer daughter takes all the rolls, Jinge.” Armitage’s attention darted to Chali. She was, sure enough, putting a second roll onto her plate. He cleared his throat again, offering that it could serve as his own even though his stomach audibly protested, though the acid within reminded him that he _needed_ to eat. “Nah. There’s enough fer her. Being a single parent ain’t easy.”

 

He spoke, clearly, from experience.

 

Armitage nodded his gratitude. He was far too nervous to hear the answer to inquire more about the captain’s family. The last members of the crew seated themselves at the table, leaving the spot beside Chali open for Armitage to take, which he did. He kept his fingers curled towards his palms. It was difficult to not be self-conscious as well as worried that others would notice he lacked the same calluses they sported from hard work. Not one person wore gloves while they ate. To do so now would be to draw that extra attention he so wished to avoid.

 

He did not comment on the fact that the roll was soggy inside, the dough not fully cooked. The meat was definitely low grade. He wasn’t sure how it would sit in his stomach, if he would be stuck in the refresher later. The vegetables were enjoyable though. Steamed. Simple. Familiar.

 

They were the one item from the meal that he did not attribute his discomfort to nearly an hour later when he was doubled-over. His hands squeezed the handle of the mop. He missed droids and the food from the _Finalizer_. He missed the _bland_ food most of all. Although, he had to admit, as much as Chali could be like Ren or Phasma at times, he doubted either of them would have reacted to his current state in the manner that she did.

 

She draped a slightly damp, cool towel against the back of his neck, wrapped her hands around the handle, and drew the mop away from him, the girl beginning to take over his chore.

 

“When you’re on a ship with only one toilet?” She raised her eyes without pausing in her actions. Armitage clutched his stomach, feeling himself trembling as he strained to listen for the toilet to flush, for there to be an opening at long last. “Fiber isn’t always your friend. I _like_ vegetables.”

 

He really wished she would have told him during their meal.


	5. Chapter 5

**I Beheld the Flaws of Man**

_ An Armitage Hux AU Fic _

by elmidol

Chapter Five

The intestinal upset persisted through the first night cycle and into a third of the following day. Armitage doubted that he would ever grow accustomed to the sensation of his gut clenching as it did. The limited facilities did nothing to lessen the stress he felt over this discomfort, and the vicious cycle was what pushed him to irritability. Chali’s sense of self-preservation kept her from poking fun at her companion. She did have a glint in her eye, and smirked in amusement when she believed that Armitage was not looking her way. The Nautolan offered a stomach soothing spice. This was where Armitage, miserable, decided he would rather take a chance on being given something laced than struggle through further agony. His risk was met with success. Within the hour, the symptoms faded away.

It was a lucky break given that he was due for his next work shift according to the captain, who had been ready to drop him off on the nearest rock. There had been whispers amongst the crew. They  _ knew _ that ‘Jinge’ was not some commoner. He could not get rid of his accent. The captain had cornered him, posing his demands as inquiries. The man wished to know how much danger Jinge’s presence put all of them in. Armitage did not sow any falsehoods. He was honest with his response of  _ I’m not entirely sure _ . The captain gave a stern nod, smirked, and commented that this was true of most seeking quick departures from planets. Then he had walked away from Jinge subsequent to dropping a tool pouch in the man’s hands.

 

What was apparent was that it remained unknown that Armitage was the former General Hux, that he had defected from the First Order. He wondered if it did him a disservice to dress and attempt to act like a beggar—well, not that there was much pretending in that given his new circumstances. He was without a home or money. Chali was in no better a state, the girl having no destination in mind. Armitage wondered how long it had taken  _ her _ to adapt to this sort of life after she had been left to fend for herself.

 

The former redhead secured the strap of the tool pouch to a nearby hook. He had in his hand a wrench, which he used to tighten one of the bolts on a desk affixed to the wall. There were no locked drawers. Nothing of value.

 

Maker of the galaxies, why was he searching for such objects?

 

His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and forced down his gaze in a mixture of shame and frustration. He was prepared to lie, cheat, and steal in order to get away from the First Order’s grasp. That hardly made him a better person. The idea of pursuing honest work was daunting. Where would he begin?

 

The desk, his mind supplied. Armitage’s body followed suit. His wrist turned, pivoting the wrench forward one final time so that the bolt was in place. He would not be a handyman wherever he took up residence, although he had to admit that he was not terrible at it. It would suit him as a temporary means of income until he could better establish himself. He found himself feeling surprisingly grateful for the opportunity to discover this while he was aboard the ship. He did not mind using his hands either. It helped to silence a number of his thoughts, mostly concerns regarding his past and future.

 

His father would have looked down on him for completing such a menial task. Armitage snorted, his nostrils flaring as he mentally faced a phantom of Brendol.  _ And how much did  _ **_you_ ** _ accomplish with your own two hands? _ Physical labor had not been the man’s forte. It helped the still-living Hux to feel rather proud of himself. He tightened the second bolt with a large grin spreading across his face.

 

Chali brought a bit of dehydrated meat when she sought him out in the dimly lit storage hull. Armitage had by then finished with the majority of the cycle’s work assigned to him by the captain. He remained busy due to having requested more—anything, I need to use my hands, is what he had said. The captain had nodded knowingly. So here he was toying with scraps that had come from old droids and spare bits from previous versions of the ships’ interior. He did not know what to make of or with them. Setting down the tools he had had in his hands upon Chali’s arrival did not interrupt the work that had yet to take place.

 

“I don’t know where I plan to go.” Admitting this aloud was not as excruciating as he had believed it would be. Instead his voice took on a wistful quality, much like a child musing over his future occupation. “I could stay on a ship forever. Or settle on a planet. It comes out the same. Everything I was, all that I had been raised to become… It’s gone.”

 

His young companion leaned so that her hip was against a metal crate. It could not be comfortable, he thought, however Chali did not complain nor show any other indication of discomfort. “Mom said to run among the stars until you find the one called home.” It was the first time she had brought up her real family. Armitage’s head whipped in her direction. She was eyeing him as one would, he imagined, a sibling. “She said, ‘You find yourself when you get there.’” His heart leapt as she appeared to suddenly fall. Chali had let her feet shoot forward. A controlled fall, her hands catching her and preventing a painful meeting between the ground and her rear. She grinned at him, flashing her teeth. “I haven’t found myself yet!” So cheerful.

 

To her, this was an adventure. Which, he supposed, it was in a very real sense. They the both of them had to be open to a sudden end in their running. They would find home when they got there, wherever  _ there _ was.

 

“Finding food and shelter may not be so easily in comparison with this arrangement,” he said. It was not that he hoped to squash any bit of her optimistic demeanor; Chali needed to be aware of the reality they faced so that they could tackle it, hopefully, together. She pushed her lips towards one side of her face. Her eyes danced along his body in silent judgment. Armitage felt suddenly foolish. He had forgotten that this was not the first time she had been in such a position. His cheeks felt hot, a strong indication that he was blushing.

 

Chali bit another piece of the dehydrated meat as she turned her head and looked away from him. She was rough around the edges due to the hand that life had dealt her, however Armitage noticed a discomfort when she perceived what could pass as weakness in her elders. She may not have viewed it as weakness.  _ Emotions _ . The power that her actions could have over others took her aback. She was no sadist. Not unnecessarily cruel.

 

“You want to stay together.”

 

He was jerked back out of his head. There was a plaintive quality to her words, to the tone of her voice. She wished to remain with him but would not allow herself to get her hopes up.

 

“I suppose,” Armitage said as levelly as he could. There remained an inflection at the final syllable. His own desire, the yearning for companionship, rearing its head. Chali met his gaze. “I left everything.”

 

“Everyone,” she supplied knowingly. Not trusting himself to speak, he nodded. His throat felt thick with all that he was holding back.  _ This _ was not a new experience; he had had to bite his tongue so often when under the command of Snoke, before that when in the presence of Brendol Hux. In truth, even including Rae Sloane and Captain Phasma, Chali was the first person he could remember connecting with on a more human and genuine level. “Me too. But… But I had to get off that planet. I couldn’t stay.”

 

He was invested enough in this young girl to wonder what had sparked these emotions and urges. Yet Armitage did not feel that he was necessarily prepared for what the answer may be. Thankfully, he was able to use the presence of the food she had brought for him as an excuse to say nothing at all without seeming rude. He chewed on dehydrated meat and found that it was tougher than any he had had before. The flavor was different as well, although he found himself enjoying it.

 

When at last his mind started to get the better of him again, Armitage returned to distracting himself by keeping his hands busy with making useless combinations of spare droid parts. Chali came nearer to him. She sat cross-legged with her hands on either of her knees. Again did she inch closer on two occasions when he was in the process of searching for another piece to work with. On the third time, the young teen was near enough to him that she reached out and set a random part against the side of his hand. He did not have any set plan, which meant he was content to use it.

 

“Mother used to garden. Flowers. We’d sell them in the market back when I was younger.” As though she was full grown. Chali poked her tongue into her cheek. A moment of silence passed between them. “On my eighth birthday we moved on the family ship. Dad had been promoted.” It was the first time she sounded comfortable speaking of her past and family. “If we stay together… My mother taught me a little bit. I don’t remember much, but I could try.”

 

Would he be wrong to take her up on that offer? They would need the credits, and he did not plan on allowing her to be taken advantage of. Fair pay. Minimal hours. Perhaps he would take it upon himself to further her education. Being a First Order General, not to mention the son of Brendol, he was well-versed in an assortment of topics. Politics. Geography. History.

 

“We’ll make quite the team.” When she said  _ yes, papa _ in response, he found himself looking at her. She wasn’t returning his gaze. Armitage studied the way she smiled, and he wondered if, had he fathered a daughter earlier in his life, if she would have been like Chali.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is unbeta'd, so if there are mistakes, I do apologize! Critique is welcome; hate is not (please know the difference between constructive criticism and complaining/hating on a fic).


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